


Lesson Learned

by BG97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Coworkers - Freeform, Don't Tell HR, Don't Try This At Home, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Minor Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Oil as Lube, Oral Sex, Past Bang Chan/Lee Minho, Past Lee Minho/Seo Changbin, Porn With Plot, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Unsafe Sex, Yikes, sex in a school, sweaty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BG97/pseuds/BG97
Summary: Minho's never really considered himself a leader… like, okay, he leads his students, but he has ten years on most of them and that natural teacher authority to fall back on. This is different. It's so much... pressure.It's uncomfortable, for sure… but Seungmin's cute and Minho just knew, from the moment he met him, that he'd need someone to help him, look after him, keep the kiddos from eating him alive. He could do that. He could be that for Seungmin.Except he was wrong, so fucking ridiculously wrong about Seungmin.Alternatively: Minho finds his new PLC partner, Seungmin, unbearable... until he doesn't.Alternatively Alternatively: Minho can't stop thinking about his new obnoxious coworker and things get heated.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 18
Kudos: 457





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome friends!
> 
> It's been a while since I actually finished a decently sized project so I'm pretty excited about this!
> 
> Some disclaimers before we get started:
> 
> This is a work of fiction and... it's smut. There's a few key points in this fic where I need you to suspend some disbelief. 
> 
> Most importantly, the major smut scene takes place in a school, over summer break, without any minors in the building, and it's still between two consenting adults, but _obviously_ it's not okay to fuck in a school... or any public place for that matter, in real life. This is coupled with the fact that 2min are teachers and coworkers in this story... don't fuck your coworkers at your place of employment... don't fuck anyone at your place of employment. Especially if you're employed by a school. Don't fuck in a school.
> 
> Second, I've become a bit more conscious recently of wanting to portray safe sex in my fics, but this is definitely not a good example of that. The characters in the fic use some shakey logic to justify their actions, but you should never have unprotected sex with someone you just met unless you're willing to accept the risks that are involved with that. Just because someone says they're clean, doesn't mean they know for sure or that they're being honest. Stay safe out there.
> 
> Oof okay, that out of the way, I hope everyone enjoys!

When Minho first met Seungmin, the only thought he could manage was 'he's cute'. Because he was, all big circle glasses and eye smiles, pressed chinos and sweater vests. Minho thought he was adorable with his side parted hair and the mole just off center from his mouth. Super cute.

Super cute… and young. Very young. 

Super young.

Well, technically only a couple years younger than himself, but that wasn't what he was used to. His last PLC partner was a fierce, no nonsense older woman who he was fairly certain was secretly a demon in a skin suit for the first few weeks. He finally managed to get her to talk about her grandkids and she softened up, but she was still scary in the way only seasoned, veteran teachers can be, the people who spend their lives getting kids from the bad side of town to sit still and give anything resembling a fuck about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or the governmental structure of post-Mao China all for a salary that barely adds up to a living wage.

Terrifying, powerful people.

Minho only has two years of teaching under his belt. He's still new, still excited, still thinks the kiddos are precious and adorable; the kids still walk over him sometimes, and he doesn't always get through the day without crying in the staff bathroom, but he really, really does love his job.

Except this is scary. Because Seungmin is young and cute and so new and naive… which makes Minho the most experienced Global Studies teacher in the building. It means he's… like Seungmin's mentor or something. It means he's PLC leader and that he'll be responsible if Seungmin crashes and burns, quits in the first week and gives up teaching forever.

Fuck.

Minho's never really considered himself a leader… like, okay, he leads his students, but he has ten years on most of them and that natural teacher authority to fall back on. This is different. It's so much... pressure.

It's uncomfortable, for sure… but Seungmin's cute and Minho just knew, from the moment he met him, that he'd need someone to help him, look after him, keep the kiddos from eating him alive. He could do that. He could be that for Seungmin.

Except he was wrong, so fucking ridiculously wrong about Seungmin.

It's not like it was one big realization… more like a number of warning signs that he ignored for longer than he should've. At first, it was just little things like Seungmin asking why he kept his desks in rows rather than teams or quirking his eyebrows at the inspirational cat posters around his room… they're cheesy and stupid on  _ purpose _ , but he thought that maybe Seungmin just didn't get it… or maybe he was a dog person… that's not an  _ automatic  _ deal breaker, afterall.

But then it started to be a bit… harder to ignore. When Seungmin emailed him on the first day of his summer break, before Miran even had her retirement party, asking to look over his lesson plans, he told himself Seungmin was just overeager. But then he got a response email full of questions like "have you considered giving the students more autonomy with projects such as the one in Unit 4, Lesson 11?" or "is Unit 5, Lesson 2  _ completely _ teacher centered?"

The eleventh lesson of Unit 4 was a one-day project with carefully planned, age appropriate chunks; it's mostly student centered, but the time limitations required him to be explicit in his expectations for their final product. It was a good lesson, one his PLC partner let him plan himself.

Unit 5, Lesson 2 was one of Miran's lesson plans, but they agreed that the most efficient way to set students up to succeed later in the unit was to have one sit and get day. There was too much background knowledge the kids needed. It made way more sense to have them take notes one day rather than sacrifice three for them to do a team reading or jigsaw exercise.

Seungmin didn't know what he was talking about.

But, okay, Minho figured he was just trying to impress him, make a good impression, show off a bit. Kind of annoying, but also kind of cute? It was fine.

Minho forgot about it for the most part. The district dropped their new curriculum and standards less than a month before the school year began… super cool thing of them to do, but it's not like he'd be working much over the summer break anyway. They were switching from region-based units to topic-based… he'd have to scrap most, if not all of his lessons for them to make sense, but it was summer so he wasn’t letting himself stress too much. He sat down one evening and drew up a potential unit schedule based on the standards they were given and jotted some notes about lessons that’d make sense in each unit.

He spent the next few weeks touching it up a bit, but mostly, he hung out with his cats and a few of the other teachers, teased Chan, their PE Instructor and his former fuckbuddy, for falling for the cute new secretary, Felix. He ate lots of junk food and binged shitty reality tv, only left his couch to get more snacks and feed the kitties… it was a good summer.

But then it was August and Minho was rolling out of bed at 7:45am, pulling on his oldest and comfiest clothes to stroll into school just in time for their first PLC planning meeting.

He supposes he shouldn't be surprised to find Seungmin leaning against the lockers outside his room in a full button-down and slacks get-up, probably showed up twenty minutes early or something… it was cute… and Minho should have anticipated the excitement, but it also rubbed him the wrong way, a bit… he felt like he was being shown up. But, like, no one gave a shit about plan days. Seungmin’s the one being weird.

Still, the adorable crinkle-eyed grin the other boy shot him made him soften up a bit - did his eyes always do that asymmetrical scrunching thing? It was cute, so he smiled back, asked the kid about his summer and did a pretty good job maintaining the small talk for eight in the morning.

He'd  _ almost  _ gotten settled into his familiar old computer chair before Seungmin was plunking his very much hand-me-down district-supplied laptop on top of Minho's desk, a document pulled up - outlined, color coded, embellished with a meticulously formatted theme, the whole shebang… Minho's first assumption was that it had to be purchased or something, he wouldn't put that past Seungmin (or any first year teacher, really), but no… right at the top, in crisp font: "Mr. Kim's Global Studies Unit Maps".

Okay.

So this is how we're playing this.

"I emailed this to you last week, but it might have gotten filtered out or something," Seungmin's voice is bright and cheery as he rests his hip on the side of Minho's desk, "thought you could look over it and I can catch you up to speed, first."

Yeah, Minho was definitely wrong about him.

Alright.

That’s fine.

oOo

It's not like the unit maps or lesson plans are  _ bad _ . They aren't. They're very… pretty… and optimistic. They're  _ very _ "I just finished student teaching and think I know everything there is to know about running a classroom". Minho obviously doesn't say this to Seungmin's face in so many words, makes sure to point out ideas he also learned about in university, but didn't end up coming together well in the classroom, compliment the things he  _ does  _ like (and he really does like a lot of it), explaining the shortcomings as best he can…

It doesn't matter. Seungmin is annoyed, he can tell.

"I know it's ambitious, if we fall behind schedule there are lessons I can feel okay cutting to make up for time, they're marked in the maps… here, let me show you-"

"Why not just spend more time on the critical lessons so the kiddos can actually absorb the material in the first place?" Seungmin's leaning across his desk, long fingers paused over the keyboard as he looks up at Minho through his ruffled fringe - he'd already started shoving his fingers through it, loosening the product he'd probably worked carefully into it at fuck-it-o'clock this morning while Minho was sleeping in.

"I think, if time allows, planning for supplementary enrichment lessons can't be a bad thing." His words are chosen carefully, but his expression is thinly veiling his incredulousness at the suggestion.

"Well, I mean-" Minho tries to phrase his words carefully, keep his tone even and calm, because  _ wow _ he really doesn't want to start a fight on the first day, but something else about Seungmin's plan had been bothering him and it was hard to ignore. "Everything seems to be based around Jihyo's curriculum guide… I wouldn't call the mandatory curriculum supplementary enrichment-"

"What do you mean? Of course it's based around the curriculum guide." Too late. He struck a nerve. Seungmin settles his weight more fully on Minho's desk, hands absently shoving the carefully pressed sleeves of his oxford shirt up his thin arms, the buttoned cuffs easily working up to settle around his elbows and Minho shouldn't be thinking about that but he is.

"Enrichment is meant to be something outside of the standard curriculum. These lessons just go a bit deeper on what's already in there. If we do that, we won't have time for fun stuff that the kiddos  _ really _ get into, like- here, I had an idea for an egyptian mythology lesson…" Minho  _ finally  _ gets a chance to open his own laptop, and Seungmin is  _ finally _ being quiet, and that means he has something to focus on other than the surprisingly defined musculature of the other teacher's forearms and his too big hands and too long fingers-

Nope. Not going to entertain that thought anymore.

Minho pulls up the lesson and Seungmin actually seems to perk up a bit as he reads over it, but it's not long before he's pointing out that it "seems fun", but very tangential to the essential question of the ancient civilizations unit, and suddenly they're back at square one, debating what is and isn't a productive topic to cover and just how much they're allowed to stray from the curriculum guide…

Minho locks up his room well after all the other PLC teams have left the building, a thundering migraine pulsing at his temples. He doesn't even feel guilty when he stops and picks up the fattiest, greasiest, most unhealthy take out he can think of on his way home or when he pours more wine than normal into his glass… not even when he goes back for a second.

He settles in for an early night, even as his brows furrow at the thought of Seungmin at some posh pristine desk flits across his mind. He'll probably show up with a whole new word document to one up Minho, but… fuck it. He flops onto his bed and does his best to keep the "you're a failure as a leader and your hoobae's never going to listen to you and you're running out of time and Jihyo will be disappointed and you'll end up improvising your lessons all year and-" thoughts at bay. He scrolls through social media for a while, the wine making him feel warm and a little restless. It takes him a minute to realize his free hand has crept from resting on his stomach to slipping into his shorts and Minho just let's it happen, letting his phone drop onto the bed next to him as he settles into a familiar rhythm, fingers swirling over the tip to collect the traces of precum before gripping and stroking down his shaft. It's a bit… well, quite a lot too dry, but…  _ ugh _ , his lube is still in the bathroom and it's definitely not worth getting up.

He's  _ tired _ and not in the mood to drag anything out, so he makes due, pulling his hand away to spit in it (being thankful no one's around to see most of it end up on his t-shirt) and immediately starts pulling up his favorite go-to jerk off fantasies. Most of them involve Chan because… man, they mutually decided to stop fucking but that doesn't change the fact that he's hot. There's Chan fucking him against the bleachers of the school gym… always a little shame with that one so he moves on to a more recent one that involves Chan, his new boyfriend, and lots of body oil that probably evolved from the  _ very nice _ memory of the PE teacher giving him a massage… but…  _ ugh _ , he probably shouldn't think about Felix since he's pretty sure the two of them are like…  _ serious _ now or something… damn.

He switches gears, thinking about Irene's cute student teacher from last semester and his fucking  _ insane _ mouth and big cock… but that just reminds him of how mad he is that he and Hyunjin never got a chance to formally hook up… still, he's getting somewhere with the memory of his cute whines and how those lips felt against his neck…

He's getting close, but it's not enough.

His breath hitches as his fingers twist around the head of his dick, brain scrambling to pull up something else,  _ anything _ else and-

Oh.

Oh shit.

Minho imagines big hands, rough against the smooth skin on his waist as he's shoved into his mattress by thin arms that are surprisingly toned and strong-

He should stop, g-d he knows he should stop, but…  _ fuck, _ he's so  _ close _ .

He imagines those long fingers twisting up inside him and-  _ g-d  _ why didn't he grab the fucking lube? His muscles clench around a phantom feeling, but… ugh, even if he could finger himself to the thought… it wouldn't be the same. No way his own fingers could go as deep, fill him up as well as he imagines Seungmin’s could. His hips twitch rhythmically up into his fist at the thought, plenty of precum now slicking the way for his hand to move faster and faster and  _ fuck _ he's so close.

He can practically feel the cool, crisp fabric of an oxford against his flushed skin, smell the soft, citrusy perfume that had filled his room all day… his face twists up as he imagines those big hands grabbing at his thighs and shoving them up and out of the way, a pretty, cute face smiling down at him, a glint of arrogance hiding behind outwardly innocent brown eyes as he fucks into Minho's body-

He tenses violently, shaking his cheap bed frame as he shudders through an orgasm that was  _ way  _ more intense than it had any right to be. 

Minho spends the rest of the night taking a cold shower, bundling up his cum stained clothes, and convincing himself that what just happened didn't mean  _ anything _ .

oOo

The rest of the week progresses as Minho expected, unfortunately.

After four days, they are  _ aggressively  _ behind schedule. Everytime Minho thinks they can move past an issue, Seungmin brings it back up, and it's just…  _ infuriating _ .

Minho tries to play nice and compromise even when he  _ really  _ thinks that his way would be better, but it seems like it doesn't matter. Seungmin just has to push every little issue.

It's exhausting.

And it doesn't fucking help that even his special private Minho time isn't sacred anymore. He's  _ tried _ , he really has, but his dumb brain has latched onto the infuriating little brat for some reason. No matter how hard he focuses, Hyunjin's hot, firm body always ends up shifting and morphing until sharp hipbones are digging into his palms and soft whines turn into groans with just that hint of nasallyness that is  _ all  _ Seungmin. Even the cushiony, rounded muscles of Minho's ex, Changbin, the least Seungmin person he could possibly think of, ultimately dissolve into the boney angles and lines of his coworker's slender figure… or what he imagines his figure must be under all those layers… because Minho has  _ definitely  _ been imagining it.

He supposes he's lucky none of this has impacted their work relationship, yet. Real Seungmin is just as annoying and stubborn and difficult to be around as ever… so even  _ if  _ Minho spends more and more time staring at his stupid long fingers as he types or the way his dress shirts pull tight against his back and slim arms when he leans over Minho's desk or the way his brows furrow at the slightest inconvenience or how he has a habit of spreading his thighs and leaning back in his chair when he's annoyed like he's  _ trying  _ to get Minho to look at how obnoxiously full the front of his pants are… even  _ if  _ he was paying more attention to that stuff, it wouldn't matter. Minho  _ definitely  _ wants  _ nothing  _ to do with real Seungmin's dick.

And, honestly, the likelihood of him jumping his annoying coworker is way less pressing of an issue than figuring out their g-ddamn lesson plans. Minho is  _ painfully  _ aware of how soon school starts and it  _ sucks _ because a new school year, new students… that's  _ exciting  _ stuff! He should be getting excited and spending their last PLC day setting up seating charts and reorganizing his room and other dumb fun stuff like that… he shouldn't  _ still _ be worrying about what the fuck he's going to teach them this year or how he's even supposed to  _ work  _ with his PLC partner today or on Monday or  _ literally the rest of the school year and beyond. _

So he's stressed and annoyed and the  _ last thing  _ he needs is to walk out of the balmy summer heat into what is  _ supposed to be  _ the cool and refreshing air conditioned school building, only to find the front entrance somehow  _ more hot and unbearable than outside. _

Oh fuck this.

Minho can already feel perspiration gathering on his body as he beelines for Irene's classroom - and the 7th grade math PLC. He hardly gets the door open before Jinyoung's agitated voice is informing him that  _ yes _ , the ac is broken and  _ no _ , it won't be fixed today and  _ yes _ , everyone's still expected to hold PLC as planned.

Oh  _ fuck _ this.

He nods and mumbles a thanks at a very frustrated Jinyoung and forces an attempt at returning Irene's strained but sympathetic smile before turning on his heels and trying to mentally prepare himself for the nightmare ahead.

As always, Seungmin is leaning against the lockers, but his sleeves are already shoved up to his elbows, his eyebrows already furrowed as he types aggressively on his phone. Minho figures that taking a second to watch the muscles in his forearms flex, to analyze his stupid long silhouet, the way his hip is cocked out into the hallway… it's like a consolation for the headache he knows he'll have within the hour between Seungmin's usual antics and the fucking  _ heat _ .

G-d it's hot.

The first thing Minho does is open every window in his room, the old frames screeching at him in protest, but at least that gets something he can  _ almost  _ call a breeze moving through the heavy air. Seungmin drops his stuff by Minho's desk with a heavy sigh, "This  _ sucks _ ."

The older man snorts, "They better have it fixed before Monday." At least he and Seungmin can agree on something, even if it's the most basic concept ever. No one wants to work in these conditions.

"Oh man… the kids…" Seungmin's eyes are slightly wide as he logs into his laptop, hip resting on the side of Minho's desk like he's made a habit of. Minho can see the beginnings of wet patches on the back of his button down - pale blue with little whales embroidered into it, today - and his ivory chinos seem to cling just a bit closer to his skinny thighs than normal…

Minho tells himself he doesn't find any of that cute or hot or  _ anything _ .

They get to work.

And of fucking course the mood takes a sharp detour minutes in. Because Seungmin wants to go back and shift around lessons for no good reason when they're meant to be planning unit one in preparation for, you know, Monday… when the kiddos show up and they have to have something ready to teach them or something, but  _ of course  _ Seungmin isn't listening.

The heat is getting to both of them, and  _ g-d _ , it sucks. Seungmin undid his bowtie - and  _ no _ , Minho didn't watch his toned forearms ripple or his big hands as they tensed and worked at the knot, of  _ course _ not - and the top buttons of his cute button down within the first hour. It's hard not to watch the tendons in Seungmin's neck shift, especially because he's basically  _ glistening _ with sweat at this point… of course, Minho probably isn't better… if anything, he probably just looks gross in his sweatpants and t-shirt… which is probably why Seungmin has been staring. Because he  _ has  _ been.

Minho tries not to think about any of that, especially because Seungmin just  _ won't let them move on _ . They've been going back and forth for an hour and Minho is just so  _ done _ with it.

Seungmin pushes his sweaty hair up off his forehead, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, “Do you have a problem with me?”

Minho instinctively bristled at the question, at the way Seungmin was looking at him with his jaw set, eyes insistent, demanding. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at his younger PLC partner, counting slowly in his head like he’d do with a particularly infuriating student.

Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was just Seungmin. It’s honestly difficult for Minho to say, definitively, why he’s so frustrated with the other man, with that question. There’s just something about Seungmin that gets under his skin and he hasn’t been able to shake it.

The silence drags on, heavy between them; neither willing to break eye contact. It’s the oldest teacher trick in the book, the waiting game. Seungmin’s obviously familiar from student teaching, was probably told the same lines Minho had been as an undergraduate.

Sometimes, silence is a teacher’s best tool. He can practically hear his old professor’s voice.

Minho’s not backing down. He doesn’t really want to answer the question, anyway, but he definitely doesn’t want Seungmin to win. Because, yeah, he has a problem with the other teacher. He always has to make things more difficult than they need to be, like now. Anyone else would just ignore the issues… or at least try to compromise before making a big deal out of it. That’s all Minho wants, for Seungmin to compromise on something because he’s the one that’s been giving ground this whole time, the one being the adult in the room. It’s infuriating. He’s the PLC leader; he has the most experience. Why can’t Seungmin just  _ listen  _ to him?

He’s not sure how long it takes the younger boy to crack, just how long they were sitting there with nothing but the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting above them to detract from the tension in the room. But he does crack, eventually. Minho counts it as a win, even when Seungmin only looks away to roll his eyes, when the first sound he makes is an annoyed groan.

“What’s your deal? Why is it so hard for you to work with me?” Minho clenches his jaw, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It’s seriously like dealing with a particularly taxing student.

“School starts in three days, Seungmin. I just want to plan these lessons and go home.”

Seungmin’s brows furrow sharply, jaw falling open ever so slightly. Minho hates himself for thinking it’s hot. Seungmin has a stupid cute face that looks really good when he’s mad, especially now when he's mad  _ and  _ flushed under the suffocating heat of the room, sweat soaking through his posh clothes and dripping down his neck... but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a fucking pain in Minho’s ass.

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up, “Are you serious? Overcomplicating things? Disagreeing with everything I have to say?”

Seungmin narrows his eyes, his glare fucking doing something to Minho that was  _ incredibly  _ inconvenient; he’s so fucking annoying.

"You're not listening to me. We need to shift the lessons around to fit the curriculum guide better-"

"I'm telling you that  _ doesn't matter _ , Seungmin, fuck." Seungmin's head tilts towards the ceiling, gaze fixed on the discolored ceiling tiles of Minho's room, jaw locking as he let's a slow breath through his nose. Minho's fucking grinding his teeth, eyes locked on the stretch of Seungmin's exposed throat, glistening with sweat that's beginning to soak down into his pressed oxford shirt. He can't decide if he wants to grip his fingers around it or fucking bite it.

G-d Seungmin's infuriating.

"Of  _ course  _ it matters," he keeps his head tilted back as he speaks, the muscles and tendons in his neck shifting under the bright classroom lights, and Minho needs to get away before he actually does something dumb. The heat is getting to him, amping up his anger and making his mind fuzzy. And, yeah, it definitely doesn't fucking help when Seungmin slowly rolls his head back up to meet Minho's frustrated gaze with his own just as venomous. "I'm not getting in trouble with Jihyo just so you can do whatever you want."

Minho  _ knows _ Jihyo, and yeah, she runs a tight fucking ship as district curriculum coordinator, but she's not a fucking dictator. And Seungmin  _ doesn't  _ know her, so maybe if he shut his fucking mouth and  _ listened _ to Minho-

But, no. He doesn't even want to argue anymore. He can't even fucking look at Seungmin right now, or the sweat dripping from his temples, or how his button down is clinging to his slim torso-

He can't stand the way his sweaty clothes are sticking to his own skin, its fucking suffocating and he just wants to- fuck, he doesn't even really know what he wants to do to Seungmin, but fucking  _ something _ . Which is even  _ more _ fucking infuriating because some stupid fresh-out-of-university kid shouldn't be able to get under his skin like this.

His chair hits the cabinets behind his desk when he stands up too sharply, and Minho doesn't miss the brief startled flash across Seungmin's face before it settles back into anger. He's already turning on his heels, walking towards the door and the empty hallway. He needs to splash water on his face or go for a walk or something, literally  _ anything,  _ to get him away from Seungmin for a minute.

"Where the  _ fuck _ are you going?" Minho briefly registers that that's the first time he's heard Seungmin curse, but he's too annoyed hearing the younger man standing up to follow him to be amused by that.

"I need a break." He barely gets the words out before he feels long, clammy fingers curling around his wrist and something in him  _ snaps _ . Seungmin's back hits the textbook cabinets, boney shoulders digging into Minho's palms before his hazy brain can fully catch up with what just happened. Seungmin is looking down at him, shocked; his hands had gripped at Minho's rib cage on instinct, but now they tightened, fingers digging into him harshly as the younger teacher's face twisted back into something mean and angry.

It takes a handful of seconds for Minho's brain to catch up with him, once again, when he lunges forward and crashes his lips against the infuriating man under his hands'. 

He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, but Seungmin only takes a bare second to respond, surging forward with his whole body, fingers tangling in Minho's damp t-shirt as he kisses back, a noise grumbling deep in his chest. Minho sucks the younger man's lower lip into his mouth and grinds his teeth into it cruelly just to drag more of that sound out. His hand slips up into Seungmin's sweaty hair, fisting the strands and tugging harshly. The boy groans into Minho's mouth, his long, thin thigh wedging between the older man's to grind up against the half-erection Minho didn't even know he'd developed at some point.

_ G-d _ , he hated him.

The kiss is fucking brutal and filthy; Seungmin's lips are so salty under Minho's tongue, his skin somehow both slick and sticky under his hands. It should be disgusting, all of this should; he hates Seungmin so fucking much right now he could scream-

But he's not; his tongue is licking across the younger boy's teeth and his hips are grinding against his boney thigh and Minho doesn't even consider for a second that he should stop. All he can think about is Seungmin's tight little body against his and the stupid sexy noises he's making and how much  _ better  _ he is when he can't speak…

And how much better this is than all the times he'd imagined something along these lines when he was home, alone, in bed.

Seungmin's wet lips attach to his neck, tongue hot as it licks at the sensitive skin there. Minho hates the desperate little gasp it drags out of him, but  _ fuck _ , he can feel the kiss in his  _ spine _ , all the way down to his tailbone where tingly heat gathers. It drives his hips to press more urgently against Seungmin's thigh, his hands to grip more roughly at his sweaty hair, holding his dumb mouth where it's  _ so  _ much more useful.

The younger teacher is groaning into his skin; dark rumbles revibrating into Minho's chest where they're pushed impossibly close to one another. He can't think, can hardly  _ breathe _ . He didn't think it could possibly get hotter in the room, but Seungmin's just a gangly wall of heat and sweat pressed against his front and their hearts are both racing, heat pooling low where their bodies are tangled against one another and it's  _ too much _ , but,  _ fuck _ , Minho doesn't want to stop.

Seungmin shifts and,  _ fuck _ , their hips align just right so that Minho can feel the bulge in his khakis press into the side of his abdomen every time he grinds forward. A dumb, traitorous part of him decides that he really fucking wants it inside of him. Like yesterday.

Seungmin's going to drive him fucking insane.

And insane is the only excuse Minho's pride will let him consider for why he whines and grips harder at the younger man when he starts to pull away from the mark he's undoubtedly bitten into Minho's skin.

"Closet," Seungmin hisses before ducking back down to graze his teeth across a spot that makes Minho's legs go weak, fucking  _ unfair _ , "can't do this here."

Oh.

Oh  _ right _ .

Minho forces his brain to work, even as Seungmin continues to lick and bite at his neck, gaze falling on the door - which is fortunately closed - and the window into the hallway - which is unfortunately  _ definitely  _ big enough to see through if anyone was passing and happened to glance in on the Social Studies PLC. He drags himself away from Seungmin's body, fisting his hand in that obnoxiously adorable button down and promptly dragging him back to his desk and the back room he always forgets about that's primarily storage for the ESL and SpEd teachers. 

The room is dark and cluttered, just as ung-dly hot as the rest of the school, but the new privacy makes them both bolder. Seungmin gives him barely a second to adjust before he's taking back control, pushing Minho back until his legs hit the edge of a desk. He barely manages to keep his balance as he sits on it, Seungmin's thin body slipping in between his spread thighs, sticky hands cupping his slick jaw and tilting his head up so he can bend down and capture him in another bruising kiss.

Seungmin seems so stupidly tall in this position, and Minho doesn't like being put on the defensive, so he makes sure to give back everything he gets, biting at Seungmin's lips, hands sliding from his thin hips to his ass to squeeze at what he swears is the only soft part of the younger man's body, yanking him closer and forcing him to bend further to keep their lips connected. It's filthy and rough, neither of them giving any ground.

Which is why Minho is shocked for a while too long when Seungmin suddenly drops to his knees in front of him. He probably looks dumb staring down at Seungmin's pretty hands as they slip under the waistband of his sweatpants if the obnoxious smirk on the younger man's face is any indication. "What are you-"

"Sucking your cock… if that's cool with you?" Seungmin's on his knees, looking up at Minho through the messy, sweaty fringe that keeps falling onto his face, but his eyes are clearly issuing a challenge, lips quirked upwards at the corner. The little shit is still in charge and he fucking knows it. Minho wants to be pissed, wants to say his dick isn't twitching and leaking against his thigh, but all he knows is that he can't remember a time he wanted his cock down someone's throat more.

"Knock yourself out," Minho's voice sounds foreign to his own ears, way too aggressive, practically growling, but  _ fuck _ , no one gets under his skin quite like Kim Seungmin and the stupid, self-satisfied smile he gets in response that's equal parts adorable and infuriating doesn't fucking help.

Seungmin tugs on Minho's sweatpants and the older man instinctively shifts his weight so they can be pulled out from underneath him and to his ankles in one quick motion- and then Seungmin is on him. One of those absurdly big hands curls around his dick, slicked with a mixture of their sweat and the precum Minho's been leaking. He groans, deep and low, head tilting back as Seungmin twists and pumps his fist like it's the most natural thing in the world.

It’s been… awhile… since he and Chan called it quits. And it’s not like he hasn’t been jacking off to the thought of Seungmin touching his dick all week. Still, it’s hard not to be at least a little embarrassed about how fucking easy he feels… but, fuck it. Even if he wanted to stop everything right now - which he really, really fucking doesn’t - it’s not like Seungmin doesn’t already know how hot and bothered he makes Minho. The damage has already been done.

Might as well enjoy having his obnoxious coworker suck his dick.

So, when Seungmin’s lips finally press against the head of his cock, tongue peaking out to tease against the sensitive skin, Minho doesn’t bother stopping the filthy moan that tears from his throat, eyes slipping closed as his hand finds purchase in Seungmin’s hair. His entire body tenses as the younger boy begins licking around his shaft, and he can hardly fathom how  _ dirty _ that is; Minho would kill for a shower right now, but Seungmin doesn’t seem to care at all, licking up his sweat and precum like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

And, fuck, does he look like he’s enjoying himself.

His eyes are closed, features soft as he moves. His face is so fucking cute, Minho could scream. It’s not fucking fair that he can look so adorable even as he laps up his coworker’s sweat like it’s his job… well shit, that thought is absolutely going in the spank bank. Fuck.

Minho honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself, just knows he needs more. He’s so fucking turned on, and Seungmin looks so fucking right on his knees for him. He tightens his grip in the younger man’s hair, and Seungmin’s gaze meets his own as he hums, a lazy, teasing smile playing on his lips. Minho knows distantly that Seungmin’s going slow on purpose, fucking  _ brat _ .

“Having fun?” Seungmin chuckles softly in response, hot breath ghosting against Minho’s skin and he gives up playing along. He grabs his cock in his free hand, knocking Seungmin’s away. The younger man doesn’t seem surprised, hardly winces when Minho’s hand tugs on his hair until the tip of his dick is pressed against his sweat and spit-slicked mouth. There’s something undeniably heated and intense in Seungmin’s gaze as his lips part and he let’s Minho guide him forward.

He’s absolutely going to be jacking off to the memory of that sight for weeks.

And the fucking  _ ridiculous _ feeling of Seungmin’s hot mouth encasing him, his tongue pressing and shifting against the underside of his cock, the vibrations from the little noises he’s making around him… he’s gonna lose it. It’s so much better than his imagination could have ever guessed, and he had no idea just how fucking  _ satisfying _ , on a visceral level, seeing his pain in the ass coworker sucking his dick would be.

Seungmin let’s him guide his head, at first, groaning with each tug on his hair and every time Minho pushes him a bit too far… and it’s not long at all before Minho is losing patience, losing all rationality as he presses Seungmin’s hot mouth to move faster and faster along his cock. Seungmin takes it, one hand kneading restlessly at Minho’s inner thigh and the other sliding up under his shirt, resting on his soft abdomen.

Eventually, Minho pulls him down hard enough that he gags - violently - and Seungmin immediately takes back control. He shoves Minho’s hands away, one of his own stroking up and down the older man’s shaft as he catches his breath, glaring up at Minho sharply.

“Sorry.” He’s not really, and the breathless, almost whiney quality of his voice probably betrays that judging by the look he gets, but it’s really fucking hard to care. His hips twitch under Seungmin’s hands, and he’s so close; he needs Seungmin’s mouth back on him, wishes he could have his fingers, his dick, any part of him inside him. He’s wound so fucking tight from the heat and their argument earlier and everything Seungmin’s done to him since… he doesn’t even care anymore, he just needs to cum. But Seungmin’s hand is moving so fucking  _ slowly _ , and he’s giving Minho the same kind of annoyed look that fucking started all of this. “Fuck, I’ll make it up to you, okay? Jesus, just-  _ please _ .”

That seems to pique the younger teacher’s interest, his head tilting to the side just a bit, corners of his mouth twitching upward. His hand is moving lazily on Minho’s fucking  _ obscenely  _ wet dick, Seungmin’s spit glistening in the faint light. This whole situation is so fucking  _ dirty  _ and Seungmin is just playing with him. He’s about to lose his mind.

"Okay, I want to fuck you." Seungmin's gaze is so heated and Minho's so close and it's such a mean thing to say because, fuck, Minho wants him to fuck him, too, but they  _ can’t _ .

"D'you carry condoms and lube in your computer bag, Minnie?" It's hard to come across as serious when Seungmin's dumb hand keeps swirling around his cock like that. It comes out too breathy, and the effect is completely lost with the way his hips are rocking forward into his coworker's fist. Seungmin doesn't seem to care, eyes locked intensely on Minho's face.

"No." His jaw is clenching, and, fuck, that shouldn't be so hot. Minho can practically see the gears turning in his head, but it's so hard to care about anything when his hand is steadily slowing.

"Seungmin-  _ fuck _ , I'll suck you off after, okay? Jesus-"

"I have olive oil." What?

Seungmin has something dangerous, scheming in his eyes as he looks up at Minho's flushed face, "I brought olive oil for my salad."

Minho's face twists up, even as Seungmin does something with his hands that sends shudders up his spine, fucking asshole. "That's disgusting."

"Awh," Seungmin cooed, voice dripping with fake concern, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you, sunbaenim..." The title is used mockingly, and Minho fucking hates his body for responding to that.

G-d he fucking hates Seungmin.

And he hates himself even more for spending even a second thinking about it. “How would that even work?”

Seungmin furrows his brows slightly, hand never stilling on Minho’s dick even if his pace remains fucking  _ glacial.  _ “You never used kitchen oil as lube when you were younger?”

What? “No? I’m not a fucking weirdo, I used spit or lotion like everyone else.” It was really fucking hard to maintain any type of composure to give Seungmin the ‘what the fuck are you on?’ look that he deserves. Or get mad at the fact that his coworker is giving him a similar ‘what the fuck’ look.

“Okay… guess you have to take my word for it, then.” Minho doesn’t know how the fuck to respond to that. Fucking unbelievable. 

"Seungmin- fuck, that’s not even- I'm not letting you touch me without a fucking condom."

"I'm already touching you-"

"Shut the fuck  _ up _ , you know what I mean."

Seungmin rolls his eyes. Fucking infuriating. "Are you clean?"

"Wow," Minho hissed; he can't be fucking expected to have this conversation with Seungmin's hand moving over his dick, he really can't, "really didn't think you'd be that reckless."

He  _ is _ clean, thank you very much. It's not like he's been getting much action recently and he always uses protection and gets tested regularly, anyway. He takes that shit seriously. He tensely informs Seungmin of this in more or less words.

"Cool, I am, too."

"This isn't a joke, Seungmin."

"I  _ know _ it's not. We're coworkers, neither of us would get away with giving the other an STI, I know you're being honest with me."

Minho groans, tilting his head back so he doesn't have to look at Seungmin's stupid pretty face. He hates the other man for making any kind of sense - even if he’s not sure if it  _ actually _ makes sense or if his dick just wants it to. He hates himself for wanting to agree at all. It's such a bad fucking idea and he  _ knows _ it is.

But  _ fuck _ he wants it. He hasn’t been able to get off all fucking week without the thought of Seungmin fucking him in his mind. It’s so fucking  _ dumb _ . 

"Fine. If you're lying I'll fucking destroy you." G-d, what the  _ fuck  _ is he doing.

"Jesus, I already told you I wasn’t." He knows he should rationally expect Seungmin to let go of him, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating when he's suddenly left without any stimulation at all… and all so Seungmin can go get his-

_ Fuck _ this is some next level, ridiculous shit he's gotten himself into.

It really is fucking ridiculous. He’s really going to let-

Yeah. Yeah he is. He really is going to let his annoying ass, contrarian ass,  _ pretentious _ ass coworker fuck him in the backroom, unprotected, using fucking  _ cooking oil _ .

His own hand is quick to replace Seungmin’s as he waits, sitting with his bare ass on some dusty desk - oh g-d, he has to remember to scour this room later... dumb, stupid fucking situation. He doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts… everything seems way worse without Seungmin there to distract him. But it does give him a moment to calm himself. Yeah, this is fucking stupid, but it’s  _ Seungmin _ , and, yeah, he fucking hates him as a coworker - he really does - but he’s not  _ evil _ . Of all the people in the world he could be doing something this dumb with, Kim Seungmin isn’t the worst person to put some trust in.

It’s going to be okay.

And jesus fucking  _ christ  _ he wants to cum. He  _ wants  _ to get fucked.

So, screw it.

Seungmin reappears in the doorway, pausing for a second, grinning at the lewd picture Minho has to be making, sitting half naked on a desk, hand wrapped around his cock, body flushed and  _ so fucking sweaty _ . He plays into it, arching his back and tilting his head, eyes locked on Seungmin’s form, his rumpled clothes, his stupid handsome face… flicking down to the bulge in his damp chinos. 

He wants it.

Fuck it, he wants  _ him _ . 

Right now.

“Waiting for something?” Minho sucks his lower lip in between his teeth, fingers grazing over the tip of his cock, not doing a very good job of hiding his impatience. He tells himself that Seungmin’s teasing little smile isn’t cute. Because it is. It’s also cute when he leans his shoulder on the doorframe like he’s settling in to watch, but Minho’s not about to admit that. Especially because every second Seungmin’s body isn’t on his makes him feel just a little bit closer to fucking imploding in on himself. He  _ needs _ it.

The room is small, and it’s a blessing because it takes Seungmin barely three steps to reach him. A little tupperware container clatters onto the desk by Minho’s hip, but he’s quickly distracted by Seungmin’s lips on his own. His free hand immediately fumbles at the buttons on the younger man’s shirt as long fingers catch on his messy, damp hair, teeth on his already abused lips. 

He’s so over dragging this out.

Seungmin let’s him tug at his clothes for a minute, kissing him breathless before he pulls away with a laugh, dragging a much more frustrated noise from Minho’s own mouth. It’s worth it though, when he makes quick work of undressing himself. His cute outfit falls away to reveal a body that’s every bit as slender and toned as Minho imagined. Seungmin is boney and lean in a way he’s not used to at all, so different from his and his past partners’ fuller, more muscular figures, and he can’t take his eyes off him. He slots perfectly between Minho’s spread thighs, hot, clammy skin brushing against his own; he doesn’t get a chance to complain about the briefs still hiding what he’s most interested in before the younger man’s mouth is back on his, hand knocking Minho’s away to pick back up where they left off.

Minho takes the initiative of grabbing the cutesy little container himself when he feels Seungmin’s free hand fumbling for it. The distinct smell of fancy olive oil manages to just cut through the overpowering musk and sweat of the confined space, and Minho can’t help but groan. This is so fucking gross.

“I can’t believe you used to jerk off with fucking  _ oil _ ,” he groans into Seungmin’s mouth, shaking hands trying to keep the dumb container from spilling.

Seungmin just laughs, hot puffs of air against Minho’s lips, “it’s definitely better than  _ spit _ .”

He supposes that’s probably fair. And it’s hard to care when Seungmin’s pushing him back until he’s resting on his elbows, when his leg is being hiked up and bent over a boney shoulder, his body suddenly open and exposed.

His breath hitches against Seungmin’s swollen lips when a slick finger is finally pressing against his rim. For once in the short time Minho has known him, the younger man doesn’t drag things out, and Minho is caught off guard. He was ready for teasing touches, ready to have to beg for what he wants; it’s disorienting when Seungmin just keeps steadily slips inside of him, when confidently adds a second finger almost immediately after. Minho’s mouth is hanging open, pliant as Seungmin continues to suck and bite at his lips, the ghost of a smile brushing against his skin.

Minho can’t care.

Not when Seungmin’s fingers are reaching so deep inside of him, crooking forward to tease the spot Minho could never reach on his own - hell, Chan and Changbin never properly could either - and Seungmin’s long fingers just…  _ do _ . He’d thought about this, so many times, could barely keep his eyes off Seungmin’s stupidly pretty and stupidly big hands all week, and, fuck, he was so right. He can’t stop his hips from moving, pressing up into Seungmin’s other hand which is still absentmindedly twisting around his cock and then back down onto those fingers as Seungmin stretches him.

The younger man isn’t gentle, hand working almost roughly as he alternates between scissoring and thrusting.

It’s driving Minho fucking insane.

His arms are stuck behind him, supporting his weight, so he can’t hold onto Seungmin like he wants to. His leg is pressed between his and the other man’s chests; he probably couldn’t get the leverage to move if he wanted to. He’s just laid there, spread out as Seungmin steadily takes him apart.

A third finger begins slipping in, and Minho moans into Seungmin’s mouth as the stretch gets more intense, squirming as they’re pressed insistently into him. “Fuck- Seung- that’s good, I’m good,  _ fuck _ .”

Seungmin hums, distractedly, “yeah? Want me to fuck you?”

G-d, he hates him.

He balances on one shakey arm so his hand can plant on Seungmin’s boney chest and push him back. It draws a sharp laugh from the younger man, but when their eyes meet, his gaze is almost predatory. Minho let’s his leg fall from Seungmin’s shoulder, foot resting on the desktop, dick twitching against his thigh, abandoned, as he watches Seungmin’s slick hand slip down into his tented underwear.

Minho’s rising on shaky legs before he can think better of it, stepping right into Seungmin’s space. His fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs and tug them down to his thighs in one swift motion; Seungmin doesn’t move to stop him, letting Minho’s hand replace his own, curling tightly around his cock.

It’s a nice dick, of course Seungmin would have a nice dick. In another situation, Minho’s sure he would like to take his time and properly acquainting himself with it, with the pretty noises Seungmin’s making against his sweaty hair. As it is, he’s out of patience and so done with letting the younger teacher call the shots. Seungmin moves easily under his hands, huffing out a laugh as he stumbles back, letting Minho push him up onto the desk - barely grabbing the open container of oil before it can spill, shifting and following his insistent prompting until he’s laying on it lengthwise.

Minho barely gives him time to reach down and pull his underwear all the way off his stupid long legs with his free hand before he’s climbing on top of him. The wood desktop digs into his knees uncomfortably, but Seungmin’s hips are thin enough that he feels stable straddling him on the narrow surface, and that’s really all he needs.

Seungmin doesn’t waste time upending the container onto his palm and reaching between their bodies to slick his cock. Minho similarly doesn’t waste time batting his hand away and sinking down onto it.

His eyes squeeze shut, his head falls back, his chest heaves, his entire body  _ shudders _ as it comes to rest on Seungmin’s boney hips, finally,  _ finally _ full. Hands grip tightly at his clammy waist, a groan vibrates up through the chest under his palms...

Fuck.

_ Fuck _ .

Minho raises himself slowly, whispering curses under his breath, before dropping himself down. A too-loud moan rips from his throat, shaky hand coming up too late to muffle it. Irene’s room is the closest. He doubts they could have possibly heard, but if anyone was in the hall-

Seungmin’s fingers dig into his skin painfully, his hips rocking up as much as they can with Minho’s weight on them, and  _ oh g-d  _ when he moves just right-

Minho clamps his palm firmly over his mouth as he begins to roll his body, hardly able to focus on anything but the way Seungmin’s cock shifts inside of him, how well it fills him, how fucking good it feels when he moves-  _ fuck,  _ just like that.

There’s no fucking way he’s going to last.

It feels like a fucking lifetime ago that he and Seungmin were arguing in his room, and  _ finally _ having his dick inside him is so fucking overwhelming. Minho groans into his palm, adjusting his weight so he can lean back, his free hand planting on the desk between Seungmin’s thighs. He rolls his hips, and it’s all he can do to keep himself up as pleasure blooms deep in his pelvis.

He feels more than hears Seungmin’s head hit the desk.

“G-d, Minho…  _ please _ move,  _ fuck _ .”

How could he say no to that?

He readjusts his weight and pushes himself to find a rhythm that has his vision going blurry. The obscene sounds of sweat-slicked skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin fill the small room as Minho fucks himself roughly down onto Seungmin’s cock. The younger boy is panting under him, hands whiteknuckled on his hips. 

It’s so fucking hot and the position is difficult for him to hold; he’s fucking dripping in sweat, his hand slipping on the desk, but  _ fuck _ it feels so fucking  _ good _ . He’s barely keeping his volume under control, every muscle in his body tensed and shaking, clenching around Seungmin even tighter.

He’s almost certain he could come like that. Just another minute, he’s so  _ sure _ he could, but then one of Seungmin’s fumbling hands curls around his dick and it’s game over. His back arches almost painfully, entire body pulled taut until he’s sure he’s about to snap, jaw locking open under his palm in a silent scream just as his cum shoots onto Seungmin’s slick chest.

Minho can’t think, can barely breathe; the hand on his mouth manages to find the desk to help him balance, hold his body up just enough. Seungmin’s hands lock back around his waist, feet planting on the desk behind Minho. He fucks up into the exhausted body above him at a brutal pace. Minho’s barely able to clench his jaw against the noises trying to leave his throat as he’s overwhelmed. He’s not sure what he would have done if it lasted any longer than it did, but, soon enough, Seungmin’s hips snap up and he shudders, groaning deeply as he cums.

They collapse back onto the desk and it takes them too long to catch their breath in the suffocating heat of the room. They sit there, Seungmin’s dick slowly growing soft in Minho’s body, cum steadily leaking out around it (gross), still tangled in one another. 

“I feel disgusting.” Seungmin’s face snaps to Minho’s when he speaks, and there’s a few tense seconds before Minho’s brain can process the guarded expression on his face or why he’s suddenly trying to shift away. “No! Ugh, not about this,” he gestures lazily down at their bodies, “well, like… yeah, kind of about that, but I mean the  _ physical _ mess. I’m sure the ‘oh shit I just fucked my coworker  _ at school _ ’ is going to hit later.”

He can feel Seungmin relax underneath him and is relieved when he let’s out a startled laugh. Minho can’t help but laugh with him. The whole situation is… wow, really fucking ridiculous.

But man… top ten orgasms, for  _ sure _ … maybe,  _ maybe _ even top three.

“How are we-” Seungmin’s own giggles keep cutting him off and fuck that shouldn’t be so cute, “how the fuck are we going to clean this?”

Minho snorts, a smile on his face that  _ definitely _ shouldn’t be so charmed, “I’ve got lysol wipes in the cupboard.”

It takes them a few tries, but they eventually manage to get up. Minho takes one for the team and forces his wet body back into his sweatpants and t-shirt to collect the lysol wipes from the main room. They have a little debate about whether they’re safe to use on skin before they both end up using them to wipe at some of the mess on their bodies anyway.

Then they get to work.

It doesn’t take long to scrub down the desk and surrounding areas, but they both fret over it, anyway. They try to figure out how to get the window open, but ultimately decide to give up before they break the old frame. The smell is pretty much completely taken over by lemony fresh cleaner, anyway, so they just settle for propping the door open and leaving a few extra wipes around.

It goes… surprisingly well.

Like, the clean up itself was easier than expected, but they managed to get through it, even the minor fiasco with the window, without fighting  _ once _ . 

Minho doesn’t let himself get too hopeful that that  _ means _ anything; he’s honestly just relieved that it doesn’t feel… weird. Maybe they should be more awkward or something, but it just feels… okay.

That’s definitely more than he could have asked for.

“So…” Seungmin’s standing at his desk, brows furrowed down at his crumpled, dirty whale shirt. “We’re not… going to finish today… right?”

“Oh, thank  _ fuck _ , I really didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

Seungmin snorts, eyes crinkling prettily… he really shouldn’t be able to still look good with his hair dripping in the muggy room, or with his dumb, wrinkled chinos... it’s not fair. “What are the odds with can sneak out early without anyone seeing us?”

He turns to face Minho, glancing up at him, but his eyes suddenly go wide. Minho starts, alarmed by the expression. “What?”

“Oh g-d… your  _ neck _ …” Oh. Oh  _ fuck _ . “I wasn’t thinking…”

“How bad is it?” Seungmin hides his mouth behind his hand. Fuck.

“Honestly?” The tone in Seungmin’s voice, the way his eyes are crinkling… “I didn’t even know I could  _ do _ that-”

“Are you  _ laughing _ ? This isn’t fucking funny-”

“It’s pretty fucking funny.”

Minho’s cheeks flush, and he’s really mad he didn’t take his chance to give Seungmin his own bruises earlier. He turns to his desk, and it’s definitely not to hide his face. When his hand slides over his neck, it’s to wipe at his sweat, and definitely not to cover the marks on his skin. “I’m just going to email Park and tell him we’re going some place else to work.”

“Awh, don’t be embarrassed...” Minho hates that he can perfectly picture the stupid, self-satisfied smile on Seungmin’s stupid pretty face, hates that that  _ voice _ is the same one the younger man used on him earlier and that it’s doing something to him all over again… fucking christ. “They look good on you.”

Not going to entertain that for a minute.

Nope, definitely not thinking about that at all.

Minho’s so focused on  _ not _ thinking about it, in fact, that he almost misses the unread email at the top of his inbox, subject line: ‘Friday PLC 🥵 CANCELLED! Have a safe weekend! 😉’

It was sent an hour after they got here. He supposes he should be thankful no one came to tell them.

Stupid.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Minho rubs his sweaty hands over his sweaty face, “we can go, they cancelled PLC.”

“They-” Seungmin seems to be going through the same mix of emotions as Minho, but he plays them off fairly well. “Okay… cool… your place or mine?”

Minho raises his eyebrows at Seungmin’s easy grin, carefully steadying his voice. “Presumptuous.”

“Is that a no?”

_ No. _

“Mine. I hope you like cats.”

**Author's Note:**

> Awwwwh Seungmin's gonna meet Minho's cats and they're going to have a nice, wholesome, quiet night in. Definitely no shenanigans. None at all!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and questions ALWAYS appreciated either on here, twitter, or CC! Come talk to me!
> 
> Twitter: [NoahBG97](https://twitter.com/NoahBG97)  
> CC: [BG1997](https://curiouscat.me/BG1997)


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